


guilty party

by nanrea



Category: Tales of Vesperia
Genre: Character Study, Gen, Headcanon, Navel-Gazing, because if there's one thing I'm full of I guess it's those, guess what im bad at angst, this was an attempt at angst, title from the national
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-27
Updated: 2017-12-27
Packaged: 2019-02-22 10:45:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 673
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13165275
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nanrea/pseuds/nanrea
Summary: You're sleeping night and dayHow d'you do it?Me I am wide awakeFeeling defeated





	guilty party

She was his North Star, his moral compass, and when she died, Damuran Atomais died with her.

In his place was a man with no history, no attachments, and no dreams.

*

Schwann Oltorain was born of necessity. The Commandant needed a survivor, a symbol, a puppet, and Schwann needed a purpose to continue living. Alexei gave him orders, and Schwann followed them, and that was enough. That was all he needed. 

Being Schwann was easy. He existed, and he followed orders, and he waited for the day he was released from his duties. 

He was not the knight Casey taught him to be, but he was close enough for government work.

*

Raven of Altosk took more work. 

It’s one thing to say he is everything that Schwann is not, but it’s another to construct those voids into a single workable persona. He found himself, more often than not, dipping into a dead man’s life the longer he had to live as Raven.

The accent wasn’t entirely fake. Oh sure, it was fake, but really, what about him wasn’t, at this point? Ever since he died, he’d been running on lies and orders and precious little else, so what’s one more fake thing to add to the fake pile?

The accent was an extinct remnant of a dead town. A lot like him, if one were interested in drawing parallels. The accent was once extant amongst the farmers and day laborers of Farryheid, and to a lesser extent amongst the servants to the grand noble houses of the same, and very carefully educated out of the children of those noble houses.

If one Damuran Atomais, upon arriving in Zaphias, still had a bit of that lilt left in his speech, then being surrounded by the high class, snobbish knights of the capitol soon worked it out of him. Schwann Oltorain would never have allowed his speech to grow so lax. Though of course, he was from the Capitol and had no reason to worry about picking up such an accent.

It took Raven over a year to be able to use it without thinking about it first. Of all the carefully reconstructed pieces of who he had been before . . . before, the accent had been the hardest for him to pin down. 

The posture took a bit of time as well, and not only because if he slouched too much the blastia embedded in his chest felt like it was about to pop out or bury one sharp point in his spleen. He had been a knight for nearly five years before he died, and after knighthood was the role he had been born to. Knights stood tall, carried themselves with confidence if not pride, but Raven was relaxed, casual; if Schwann permanently stood like he had a stick lodged up his ass, then Raven flopped a bit like a puppet on loose strings. Much like a disaffected younger son of a nobleman might carry himself, perhaps, though certainly neither Schwann nor Raven had much use for interacting with such a person. 

The mannerisms were the hardest part to perfect, and the easiest, because they came from a version of himself that had been laid to rest long before he’d died. Flirtatious, lascivious, a trickster, a scoundrel, all the things his father had sent him to Zaphias to eliminate in the first place. If Damuran still lived, it was in the methods Raven used to convince people he was just a harmless flirt.

Honestly, he’s not sure who would be more disappointed to meet Raven, Casey or his father. Raven was no knight of the people, and Raven was exactly the kind of man his father sent him to Zaphios to keep him from becoming.

*

Raven was firmly convinced that no man should have to die as many times as he had. In general, once was more than enough. 

Just his luck he had to survive dying twice. Damuron died years ago, and now Schwann was dead too.

Well, third time's the charm, they say.

**Author's Note:**

> when in doubt, go with The National for title and summary.
> 
> anyway I picture this as mostly set between Baction and Heracles, though really it's more of a general sort of thing.


End file.
